


Live for Me

by LemonFrame



Category: Cancer Crew, The Filthy Frank Show (Web Series)
Genre: Chad being a babe, He's not, I'll update tags as I go along, Joji's music, Kinda depressing sometimes, M/M, Smut, chloeburbank, his music is just sad, let's just pretend that joji is actually happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonFrame/pseuds/LemonFrame
Summary: Everything is going wrong. Everyone is hiding something. Bad things are happening, and nobody knows how to explain anything anymore. {{I'll try to update when I have time.}}





	1. Unsaved Info

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know about this, it might be pretty good, it might not. Thanks to everyone that reads it, though.

It was a cold night, about as cold as it could get in Perth, and it had been a tediously long day of filming videos that probably wouldn’t work out. All four of the boys were tired, but the only one tired enough to actually sleep was Chad, who had fallen asleep on the floor with several pillows crushed against him. Everything about the situation felt wrong; there were no dumb jokes, no memes, no sarcastic quips here and there. Everything was just silent. It made George want to throw up. It made Max feel dizzy. It made Ian’s head hurt. The increased feeling that something was going wrong had been floating around for weeks, but no one wanted to bring it up; no one wanted it to happen. None of the Cancer Crew knew what it was, but they all knew it could seriously do some damage. They had all done their fair share of trying to decode what was going on though, but it was something unrecognisable, something they wouldn’t know about until it happened.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air. George, Max, and Ian had been drinking a lot that night, it was hoped to be a way of curving the edges of the rough night. Instead, it left all three of the men unsure of what they want and need, and filled them with false desire fuelled by loneliness and inner panic. Max couldn’t focus on the movie anymore, his head was spinning and he was focusing too closely on the sound of a dripping tap in his kitchen. His brain was clouded by the alcohol and everything he knew was replaced by desire and need and want. His drunken state had caused this, and the only stable part of his brain knew that it wasn’t true what he wanted. He just needed something, the closest thing to him. Max fought the urge to jump up and turn the tap off for as long as he could, until it had wormed its way into his head and me him want to scream. But he was calm about it, not wanting to make too much of a scene.

“I’m gonna go take a piss.” Max slurred as he carefully manoeuvred himself out from between Ian and George and over the fat cunt on the floor.

“Have fun!” Ian called from where he was now leaning on George.

Max’s drunken, lazy conscience told him it was too much effort to put the hallway lights on, and so he made his descent in darkness, which oddly sobered him a little. Maybe it was just the fact that the only picture on the wall was crooked, and he lost interest in fixing it. Perhaps it was the way the walls lost their colour and became shadowed by the other walls. He turned out of the hallway and into the kitchen, remembering to turn the tap off as he passed through. A strong sense of satisfaction washed over him but eventually it made him feel pathetic. Why was he so bothered by such a minor inconvenience? Why was he so proud after silencing something small? He sighed, wondering why everything felt so complicated today, and turned into the bathroom.

The bathroom wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t necessarily small either. The floor was lined with cheap white tiles that Max couldn’t be bothered to change. In the corner, one of the tiles was cracked from when the boys were filming a video. Max laughed fondly, remembering when everything was so much easier. Remembering when everything was okay, and nothing was going wrong. He brushed his thoughts off, and sat down on the lid of the toilet seat. A long, drawn out sigh left his mouth, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

His brain was telling him he needed relief and he didn’t realise what was happening until it was; Wandering hands found their way to the front of Max's jeans, and snaked their way inside, the button popping open and zipper following as he did so. Max's teeth clamped down on his lip, urging him not to make any noise, the other's were very close by. A shiver travelled down his spine when his cold hands wrapped around his dick and a short gasp followed. Before moving, he waited for his hands, and his dick, to adjust to the heat. It was a painful wait, that's for sure, with Max getting impatient in his drunken and horny state, but it was for the best. Once he was certain it was alright, he began moving the hand that was on himself, the other gripping his shirt until his knuckles turned white. He picked up his pace, feeling the familiar knot in his stomach appear, and the temptation to moan was huge, but he didn't, and he bit down harder on his lip, probably drawing blood. Max was close now, he could feel it, and he sped up just a little more until hot streams of cum were dripping down his hand and his eyes had glazed over with pure orgasm. He rode his orgasm out for as long as possible, stopping once the over sensitivity came about. 

After cleaning himself up, Max stopped and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked bad, worse than usual. His eyes were darker, his hair was messier, his cheeks were paler, he looked as though he hadn't slept for a while, which wasn't completely untrue. Dwelling on his deteriorating state wasn't a good idea, so he shrugged it off, and left the bathroom. It hadn't been that long, about 10 minutes, so he didn't expect his awaiting friends to be concerned. Max expected them to still be intently watching the movie, mindlessly taking swigs of bottles filled with alcohol, but apparently he was wrong.

Very, very wrong. 

He noticed the noises and sounds first, unable to recognise what they were until he was at the doorway, watching the current events unfold. George was now on Ian's lap, lazily making out with him, and Max couldn't see but he was certain there was something more going on in between them, and judging by the moans and soft pants, it was enjoyable. Max definitely didn't have the courage to just waltz over and join in, though he wished he did, and he didn't really want to interrupt them (that would make for an embarrassing rest of the week), so instead he turned away from the door frame and went into the kitchen. He sat and listened intently to the delicate moans, the desperation in their voices as they called each other's names, the way they begged for each other, and eventually Max was hard again, getting off to the sound of his friends touching each other. 

* * *

The night had passed and it was now a new morning. Max didn't bring up what he had seen, and neither George or Ian spoke about what had happened between them. Chad was oblivious, trying to keep the banter between the boys going, as he usually would. Presumably, Chad didn't wake up at all during George and Ian's endeavours, or they had moved to somewhere more private, either way, Chad didn't know about anything, and he was still trying to fix things. It was a good thing, though. With Chad trying to lighten things up all the time, the boys began showing signs of improvement, joking with each other more, trying to forget that everything was going wrong. It helped, it helped a lot, and Chad didn't receive enough praise for it, really. But that was how things went with the Cancer Crew, everything that wasn't done for entertainment was brushed off, forgotten, ignored. And everyone was used to it, desensitised to being insulted and ignored. It was just a regular thing for them, and it most likely would be forever.  

 


	2. wefllagn.ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought that another chapter might be a good idea, but it's up to you to decide whether or not it is. Again, this might be pretty decent, but it might not. If you did like it, feel free to comment or something, I don't know. But yeah, thanks for reading.

It wasn’t long before Chad began to notice the changes in everyone's attitude, particularly George; there were times when he would just disappear, everyone one would wake up, and George would be gone, not answering any texts or calls. Chad hated the distance that had grown between everyone, it was like a wall, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break it down. Eventually, Chad became the main support of the group; he had to keep everyone in check, keep their usual antics going, had to make sure no one’s mental health slipped below ‘decent’. He felt like a mother and it wasn’t the most enjoyable position, no, but Chad cared about his friends a lot, despite what he lead on. For once, he felt included, in the worst and best way possible; most of the time Chad was the sideline guy. Though, being left out of the gay shit was pretty alright for him. Not that he had anything against gays, he just wasn’t one of them, as he would often say.

Much like the others, Chad didn’t really know how to approach the situation they were all neck-deep in. He didn’t want to bring it up, he felt like that wouldn’t go very well, but it seemed as though that was the only option. Chad being the fucking mastermind he is, began planning out - in his head - the best way to bring up this subject. _Maybe we could crack open some beers, get some memes going and then- no that’s a shitty idea._ Knowing a lot about his friends helped Chad develop some ideas to get a stable conversation going. _We’ll leave the serious conversation until we’ve all mellowed out a little, you know, got some alcohol in our systems and forget that we’re all motherfucking depressed._ He laughed coldly at his bitter thoughts. He was taunting himself really. What if his plans didn’t work out? What if he just made things worse? Chad didn't want to doubt himself, he really was doing his best.

Chad was never a huge fan of cliches, but he could have sworn that light bulb really did appear above his head. Either that or it was the light they broke in one of their filming sessions, that was a pretty decent video, in Chad’s opinion. _We’ll go out to the woods, the place with the fire pit from before, we’ll get drunk, and then talk about the serious shit, simple._ At that moment he really felt as though he was excellence personified, and he was, if you think about it. Slamming his laptop shut, he stood up gallantly.

“Oi cunts, get dressed, we’re going out!” It’s not like Chad expected them to be excited about going, but he at least expected them to reply and comply. Instead, he got nothing, neither Ian, George, or Max looked up from their laptops. Chad was persistent, though, and he was gonna get these depressive assholes out. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Stop being fags and get off your lazy asses.” Ian looked up.

“Or we could not do that, because some of us actually have stuff to fucking finish.” Ian exaggerated, casting his eyes back to his laptop. Max and George muttered their words of agreement and carried on too.

“Look, you miserable sacks of shit, all we’ve done this week is film shitty videos and be shitty people. So come the fuck on, man up, and get dressed.” The amount of emphasis Chad was adding on random words was amazing, and he stood with his arms slightly raised waiting for a reaction.

Max was the first to illicit any kind of acknowledgement of Chad’s mini speech; he shut his laptop and set it aside, standing up and reaching for the jacket hung on the back of his couch. “We’re always shitty people.” He finished with a smirk, pulling his jacket over his body and wondering out of the room, presumably to find his shoes. Chad inwardly congratulated himself on being such a convincing person and watched as George and Ian began doing the same as Max.

“It can’t be that bad, there’ll beer and shit, Ian, just come on.” George began his attempts at persuading Ian to show some spirit. Though he didn’t want to, Ian began dressing himself as the others did.

Before long everyone was inside the car, Chad in front of the wheel, George beside him, with Max and Ian sitting in the back. Everything was silent, and it made Ian’s blood run cold. Mindlessly fiddling with his hands seemed to help dull his nerves, but finding out that he couldn’t escape their little trip had really taken it’s  toll on Ian’s anxiety; he’d been super anxious about George bringing up that one drunken night they shared, he was intent on not letting anyone know that happened, he wasn’t gay, after all. Ian, of course, didn’t know that Max had seen what had happened that night, and probably never would, because the boys must protect their precious heterosexuality.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Ian piped up.

“Because all you cunts have done this week, and last week, is act all fucking depressed and shit.” Chad replied, immediately regretting bringing up the subject of the boys’ general dysphoria.

“We’ve just been busy.” George joined the conversation, using the same old ‘busyness’ excuse.

“You’ve always been busy, I’ve always been busy, we’ve all always been fucking busy, George, it was only recently when you all started acting weird.” Chad told himself it was best to just drop it, to let the conversation dissolve into the inevitably uncomfortable silence from before, but instead, he continued, pressing down harder on George’s purpled bruises.

“We’re all just tired, Chad, we get it, you’re like our mum, but you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Max, instead of saying anything true, placed the bandage over the wound; that conversation was over, and Max prayed that Chad would just drop the idea of the subject and forget completely about the drastic changes in the group’s behaviour.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, I just worry about you miserable cunts.” Chad laughed and turned the car off of the main road and down one that lead into the woods.

The rest of the journey was filled with absolute silence. Everyone’s head was spinning, their thoughts getting out of hand and suggesting the impossible. When Chad pulled over the car, you could practically feel the relief setting in over everyone. They all got out, unbuckling their seat belts in unison and creating a fantastically satisfying click and began grabbing their things. It had really warmed up, and Max found himself staring at the way Ian pulled his sweater over his body, which hiked up his shirt and revealed his lower stomach. Max bit his lip and looked away, praying not to get hard whilst his friends were around.

After retrieving the alcohol from the trunk, they set out towards the fire pit that was in the centre of the woods, inconveniently placed rather far away from the road where the car was. The fire was lit and they crowded around it, basking in the warm glow of the open flames. Once the alcohol’s effects were really setting in, everything began going smoothly again. Jokes began floating around, memes were quoted, and just general conversation was started. Everything was okay for everyone.

Everyone except George.

George felt sick to his stomach, he bit down hard on his tongue and told himself to man up. But his head felt as though it was being bashed repeatedly by a hammer, and he felt dizzy ,and he wanted to throw up, and there was an untraceable ache in the back of his head. There was a number of reasons he could have been experiencing these pains: the alcohol could have been having negative effects, he could have caught an illness, he could be about to have a seizure. George sincerely prayed that it wasn’t the latter, he hadn’t had a seizure in a very long time, but he was gravely disappointed when he felt his leg twitch and jerk slightly. How could he tell Max, Ian, and Chad? How could he get the help he was about to need? In an attempt to hide the spasms, George clamped his arms around his body, curling himself inward. But he soon felt worse, and began desperately searching for an exit out of that situation.

It started before George could even realise; he fell backwards, losing any sane consciousness. He could still see but he couldn’t react, he wasn’t sure if he could even breathe. A few moments passed before anyone noticed, Ian rushing over to his side and yelling incomprehensible things. George could make out a few words, but the rest were murmurs and soft hums. Embarrassment washed over him as he felt a trail of drool slip down the side of his mouth, he couldn’t move his arms, they just twitched and spasmed and jerked and pulled. Everything was being signalled to move at once, his brain was over working itself, it was reacting too much.

“I thought he was over the seizures?” Max frantically shouted to Ian, who was now carrying George bridal style back towards the road they came off of. Technically, George was over them, but there would always be the open possibility that he could have one.

“Yeah, I thought so too, but apparently fucking not.” Ian shouted in reply, his voice as panicked as Max’s. Chad was trailing behind, on the phone to, presumably, an ambulance company.

Chad looked up once the ambulance was confirmed and the call ended. _I fucking knew tonight was a shitty idea._ He scolded himself and regretted ever planning to try and fix his friends. Something always went wrong for the Cancer Crew, more often than not when there was already a lurking problem. Chad sighed and ran closer behind his friends. A quick glance at George made him feel sick in a guilty way. He couldn’t help but feel as though the whole incident was his fault. Of course, it wasn’t. It wasn’t any of their faults, but George could’ve been more specific when he said that the seizures were out of the picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took so long, I've had a lot of essays and assignments to do this week, and I've just generally been very busy. But I did say that I'd update very week so, here ya go :)


	3. WORLD$TAR MONEY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a couple days late, I've had a very busy week. I'll have another chapter up this week, and hopefully the week after will be less busy and I'll be able to get a chapter up on time. Anyway, thank you for reading :)

“It’s...It’s gone.” Max whispered as him, Ian, and Chad stood aligned, watching the ambulance drive into the distance. 

“They didn’t ask if we wanted to ride with him. He’s alone. George is...George is alone.” Chad spoke, understanding what Max meant. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t muster up a facial expression. He couldn’t express any emotion. He felt physically and emotionally drained.

Max and Chad couldn’t tear their eyes away from the area the ambulance once was. They both jumped a little when Ian slammed the car door and started it up. It drew them away from the bottomless pit of despairing thoughts, and they began getting into the car too. Chad stopped before he entered the passenger side, though.

“The fire is still burning.” He was quiet, but still loud enough for Max and Ian to hear him.

“Get in the fucking car.” Ian said, voice laced with dominance and anger.

“It’ll start a fucking forest fire, Ian, it won’t take long.” Chad waited for Ian to reply before moving, he was also holding his breath.

“You have ten minutes.” Ian’s voice was bleak. Of course, Ian knew it would most likely take longer than ten minutes, but he needed to rush Chad. Ian’s threatening tone made Chad shiver, but instead of responding, he shut the car door and rushed into the woods, leaving Max and Ian alone.

Everything was silent at first. And although it wasn’t speech, Max broke the silence by climbing into the front seat and glancing up at Ian. They locked eyes, attempting to detect some kind of feeling from each other’s eyes. There wasn’t much; emptiness, dread, anxiety. Both Ian and Max were worried about George, he could be dying right now and they were waiting for some fat piece of shit to put out a fire about a mile into the woods. Ian sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, a gesture Max noticed and related to very quickly. Ian looked up again and began resenting himself a little more. He hated the way he looked at Max with such warmth and affection. And he hated the way Max did the same. They were close friends, maybe a little too close, and they were both straight which was why Ian didn’t understand why he was having these feelings for his peers.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Max broke the silence, locking his eyes with Ian’s once more.

“I hope so.” Ian kept his gaze on Max and all of a sudden he was pulling Max onto his lap, feeling the same desire from the other night return. Everything was going too quickly, Ian knew this would end up as another blurry memory.

Max was shocked, but he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he allowed Ian’s hands to wander. He felt guilty, George had been hospitalised and they were basically fucking whilst he could be dying. Ian connected their lips, needing attention and affection. Max reciprocated, moving their lips in sync and moaning as Ian moved his hips into his own.

“We- ah- shouldn’t be doing this. Not-uh- here.” Max whispered, worried that Chad might come back and find them in a compromising position like that. But Ian brushed Max’s comment off, snaking his hands into Max’s pants, eager to please. Max gasped as Ian gripped his dick and began to stroke him, picking up the pace after a while.

“Ian- uh- stop. Ian. Chad will-mm- be back soon.” Ian didn’t stop. He continued stroking Max, planting kisses on his neck, his collarbones, his throat. He gasped and panted and moaned and eventually he felt himself coming close. “Ian..please.” Max begged him to stop, his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Come on- uh- Ian. I don’t think this is- ah- the right time for this. We can do this some other time. George could- fuck- be dying and we’re basically- uh- doing it.” Max came right as Ian stopped stroking him, cum dribbling down Ian’s hand. He clambered off of Ian and tucked his dick back into his jeans.

“Way to make me feel like shit, faggot.” Ian retorted, searching through the glove box for some kind of tissue.

“I’m sorry, it’s just Chad will be back soon and it would’ve been kinda awkward if...” Max’s voice trailed off.

The despairing silence returned. Max could see that Ian was still hard, and the temptation to jump him was huge, but he restrained himself. He felt dizzy, they both did. Ian was overwhelmed with worry and Max felt like he was going to throw up. Ian’s brain felt like an unexploded mine, ready to burst and spill everything at any moment. And what better time than when he was alone in a car with Max.

“What’s wrong with us?” He blurted out, sudden regret and remorse filling him. He blinked a few times and gave a long, drawn out sigh.

Before Max could give any kind of response, or even reaction, Chad piled into the back seat, frantic and panting. He breathed heavily and gestured for Ian to drive, incoherently yelling.

“Come on, come on! Hurry up!” Chad shouted, moving into the middle of the backseat. Ian started the car, probably driving way quicker than the speed limit allowed, feeling more anxious now that Chad had turned up, screaming about the Hospital.

“Jesus, Chad, what happened?” Ian spoke, glancing at the mirror and catching Chad’s eye.

“The hospital called. They said they couldn’t reach George’s parents-”

“Well no shit! George’s parents haven’t really fucking been around much.” Max chimed.

“-and they need someone there to fill out his medical forms and agree to proper treatment.”

“Call me a retard but I’m not following.” Max really was a retard.

“They can’t actually treat him until someone signs his forms and agrees that he’s in a fucking shitty state!” Ian shouted, clearly irritated by Max’s newly found idiocy.

“Fuck.” Max muttered, turning his line of vision back to the front window.

The rest of the car journey was silent. The only thing that could be heard was gentle, steady breathing. Everything felt wrong again. Ian had fooled around with George the other night, and he had done the same with Max that night. The worst thing was he didn’t regret anything. Neither did Max or George - Chad of course still being oblivious to what was going on.

 

* * *

A doctor beckoned for the boys as they waited for permission to see George. They all stood up and rushed as calmly as possible into the room, almost shoving the doctor out of the way.

George looked terrible. His eyes were red and his nose was bloody; his white t-shirt was still damp with the blood from his nose. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white and veins visible. He lay completely still, breathing silently and shallowly; he looked like a corpse.

“Jesus, is he dead?” Chad said, which earned him an elbow in his side from Max.

“Of course not.” The doctor began, “But he still needs treatment. I’m going to need someone to sign these, preferably the person who is closest to Mr Miller.”

“I could do it.” Ian spoke, gaining a concerned look from Max and Chad, but they both seemed to brush it off.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.” Max forced, taking the clipboard from the doctor and handing it to Ian who began scribbling answers and signatures. It didn’t take long, about three minutes, because Ian rushed it, not worrying about anything but George anymore.

“Thank you” The doctor spoke as he took the clipboard and began speaking to the nurses monitoring George’s pulse and heart rate. They whispered for a while before they began ushering the boys out of the room - they refused, almost, explaining that they needed to make sure George was okay and that they had only seen him for about ten minutes. Returned responses only being things like “You aren’t family,” or  “It could be dangerous.” The door was closed on them, and probably locked. Max sighed and groaned, rubbing his eyes with both hands until they were red and sore.

“They didn’t even fucking tell us if he was okay!” He shouted, which caused Ian to go to his side and attempt to calm him down.

There was a distinct drilling pain in Chad’s gut. Sort of like when a soccer ball hits you in the stomach and you’re recovering. Could have even been a guilty feeling, like when you get caught doing something you shouldn’t and you feel bad for it. Chad liked to compare it to a menstrual cramp, because holy fuck, did it hurt. It made him awkwardly squirm slightly, shifting positions every minute, until it was so bad that he doubled over, pretending to tie up his shoe lace. He clenched his fists and screwed up his eyes, begging for the ache to go away. His begging was similar to a prayer, he began using “Please god, make it go the fuck away,” as a mantra. A strange dizziness began in his head, working its way into his whole body, making chad feel sick and weak, but he sucked it up, keeping the ‘I’m okay’ facade.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm not sure. This wasn't very long, I didn't have a lot of time today and I was kinda rushing it, but other chapters will be longer and have more depth to them. This was also just kinda a tester to see where I want to take this story. So yeah, thanks for reading.


End file.
